Program Notes

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953)

Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Major, Op. 23 (1921)

Scored for solo piano, two flutes and piccolo, pairs of oboes, clarinets and bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, percussion and strings  

By the time he left New York in 1918, Serge Prokofiev must have felt like a wounded animal, barely limping away to lick his wounds and hanging on tenaciously to life. Never in his career had the Russian genius been so ruthlessly assaulted by critics, and his standing with the public hadn’t fared much better. So it was with a great deal of trepidation that the composer set off for Chicago where he hoped he would be received with at least resigned tolerance.

While still in Russia, Prokofiev had met Cyrus McCormick, president of International Harvester. McCormick admired Prokofiev’s music, and Prokofiev had a thing about machines, so the two hit it off right from the start. McCormick invited the Russian to visit him in Chicago if ever he was in America. Now, seeing little more than an artistic lynching in New York, Prokofiev decided the timing was perfect to take the farming machinery giant up on his offer.

Almost at once things started to look up. Frederick Stock, the conductor of the Chicago Symphony conducted his Scythian Suite. The public was thrilled. A short time later he obtained a commission from the Chicago Opera for the Love for Three Oranges which, after some delays was also produced to great acclaim. But prior to the production of the opera, Prokofiev was able to give the first performance of his newly finished Piano Concerto No. 3.

Prokofiev first thought of writing the piece as far back as 1911. Ideas were intermittently jotted down over the next ten years and by the time he completed it in the summer of 1921 he had most of his themes. It was premiered on December 16, 1921, also with the Chicago Symphony under Stock’s direction and also to great enthusiasm.

It was a significantly more confident Prokofiev who returned east a few weeks later for the New York premieres of both the concerto and the opera. They both flopped. Audiences and critics, who didn’t really like Prokofiev anyway, were further insulted that he would offer them an opera that they didn’t ask for themselves, and the concerto was simply a further irritation.

By this time Prokofiev was fed up. He had been in America for more than three years and his prospects were bleak. He had tried and failed to get performances and recitals in this country without success. As he wrote at the time, “As I wandered in the enormous park in the center of New York, I thought with cold rage of all the wonderful orchestras in America who cared nothing for my music and refused to play it. I had come here much too soon. The ‘child’ is not old enough to appreciate new music.” It wasn’t long before the composer decided to give America a miss and trudged off to France.

Prokofiev would have the last laugh, though. The Piano Concerto No. 3 would become one of his most popular works both with audiences and pianists, and one of the most famous pieces of music of the 20 th century.

Quietly, cautiously, a gentle, almost soothing theme begins on a solo clarinet to open the concerto. Soon a second clarinet joins it, before it is lovingly taken up by violins and flutes. But just as this theme begins to develop, it is suddenly given the elbow by the agitated allegro theme that begins in the strings. The theme starts quietly at first but soon builds to a climax to introduce the piano. Its music is equally agitated but remarkably stirring in its intensity and confidence. A series of pounding chords leads the way to the second theme, which is more lyrical, and strangely reminiscent of Spanish music in its vibrant rhythms, and complete with castanets. Things soon heat up again and the music is even more agitated than at first. Another crashing climax brings a return of the movement’s slow introduction as the development section, taken up and elaborated on by the piano. A Series of quiet chords acts as bridge to the recapitulation, and continues under the piano’s restatement of the allegro theme. From here it is the piano that breathtakingly dominates the proceedings in suitably virtuosic fashion.

The second movement is a theme with five variations. The theme is a stern march with more than a hint of sarcasm. The first variation opens with a trill and flourish on the piano and is a romantic commentary on the main theme. The second variation is impish and the third agitated and severe in its thundering chords. The fourth variation marked Andante medativo is deeply contemplative, ethereal and melancholy. The final variation is a vibrant scherzo that gradually builds to mammoth proportions. It wanes slightly in a chord study, while the orchestra intones the main theme under it, and a quietly pensive progression ends the movement.

In Prokofiev’s own words, the final movement is filled with caustic humor, and “a good deal of argument with frequent differences of opinion as regards key.” As in the first movement, a quiet opening is stolen away, this time by an agitated onslaught from the piano. After a bit, the torrent is temporarily calmed by a slower and surprisingly beautiful theme in the orchestra, but the piano refuses to play along, instead taking up a humorous attitude of mock severity in a cynical march. Before long, though, the piano adds its own voice as the orchestra, refusing to give in, continues the slow, beautiful theme where it left off. The music reaches a climax and a sudden pause brings back the movement’s opening music. A last rush of fiery brilliance brings the concerto to an explosive finish.